


Too Soon For Killer Croc Jokes

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: AU-Canon Divergence by Tomorrow, F/M, How Do I Tag, Wynonna Is An Ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:59:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: “Wynonna Earp, insert your own quippy introduction here because I am very, very fucked and not in the way I like to be,” she says in a breathless rush.





	Too Soon For Killer Croc Jokes

Eyes, it’s the eyes.

Well, the eyes, and the fierce growl that ripples through her like standing too close to a speaker at a concert.  For once, she’s got—she’s got just _nothing_ to say.  She hadn’t expected him to still look like him.  It’s worse, almost, because it’s not—it can’t be—it’s not really—

“Dolls,” she says carefully, and the inhuman noise goes softer, the hum of a distant lawnmower, and his face loses some of its ferocity, and maybe it’s wishful thinking but it almost looks like he actually sees her.  He tilts his head; she unthinkingly mirrors him. 

His whole body is tense, and when he moves it’s… _different_ , more animal than Dolls, slinking and predatory, and he’s constantly moving, around her so that she’s turning in a slow circle.  He looks curious, though, and the growl has gone even quieter—and, oh, _God_ , it sounds like a purr and that, she’s gonna milk _that_ if she doesn’t die horribly.  As he rounds her, she’s dimly aware that he’s coming closer, but all she can really focus on are the eyes.  She’s searching, searching, and she thinks she can see him in there.  And when she _does_ see him, it’s all she _can_ see, and she wants very badly to make a joke about The Jungle Book, and what was that snake’s name anyway?

They’ve stopped moving and she realizes she’s got a white-knuckle grip on the front of his sweater and this is probably _bad_ like really, really _bad_ like, Christ, Earp, Queen of Bad Decisions, _bad_.  And she can hear his heavy deep breaths coming in quick and sharp, can see the confused hesitation in his frown, can feel the rumble in his chest even if she can’t hear it. 

She’s jarred straight outta the moment when her phone buzzes in her back pocket.  Fumbling, and without looking away from his eyes, she answers and presses it to her ear.

“Wynonna Earp, insert your own quippy introduction here because I am very, very _fucked_ and not in the way I like to be,” she says in a breathless rush.

“Wyno—”

On hearing Doc’s voice, her heart skips and she interrupts, “Hey!  You and Chemtits need to get down here like five minutes ago because I found Dolls and cardio is _really not my thing_.”

“In that case, I do deeply regret to inform you, but it’s not ready—”

“I’m sorry, was I not clear enough?” she demands, tone going maybe a _hair_ frantic, “Angry demon lizard in my barn.  Not a great time for double-blind studies.  Get here.”

As she’s trying to shove her phone back into her pocket, it slips.  It hits the floor with a clatter and without thinking she looks down.

And, somehow, that broke whatever spell they’d been under and her heart plummets as he lets out a snarl—cold all over, her hand falls to her side as she takes half a step back.

“Buddy—Dolls, my guy,” she coaxes weakly, “I wouldn’t make a great dinner—I’m all stringy, you know.”  His brow furrows, she wonders if he understands—wonders how out of control he really is or isn’t, his clothes look oddly not-caked-in-blood-mud-and-shit, not torn, fairly laundered.  “And believe me,” she rambles thoughtlessly, “I _never_ thought there’d be a day when I told you _not_ to eat me, you know?  Sorta the opposite of the kinda thing I try to do in life.  So, like, this is extra uncharted territory for me—you can appreciate that, right?”  And, like, she can’t stop the cascade of 100% USDA Grade-D _stupid_ pouring forth from her lips even as the-thing-that-used-to-be-Dolls-and-might-kinda-still-be-Dolls lurks over her, follows her with slow, methodical steps.

She feels cornered long before her shoulders hit the wall, and she feels _scared_ , but not the way she’s been scared before.  This isn’t a bear, this isn’t some century-old serial killer (although, okay, that was _pants-shittingly terrifying_ ), this isn’t the town full of people who hated her _before_ a drug that made them want to kill her—this is Dolls, unflappable and cool as a cucumber and she just can’t… can’t _reconcile_ these two versions of him.  And she’s scared because it feels like a loss—feels like watching someone she—

It feels like watching a death, and she’s so _sick_ of death.

He crowds her against the wall and a post digs into her back and on either side, she can _hear_ his nails ( _claws?_ ) digging into the slats punctuated by her own sharp, staccato breaths and the asshole part of her brain whispers, _You should_ really _have been more careful about what you wished for._   Just as he lets out a growl, making her blood run cold, she sees a hand over his shoulder clutching one _hell_ of a needle and she never, ever thought that sight would signal her rescue.  The hand comes down; Dolls lets out a noise that’s part scream, part howl and something—she thinks it’s her _soul_ —wrenches inside her.  He stumbles back away from her, inhuman growls giving way to pained moans—she watches, frozen in place, as his eyes fade from bright gold to familiar brown, as his back straightens, as his breathing slows.

“I could, like, literally kiss you right now,” she says breathlessly to Rosita, who’s still clutching the syringe like a weapon and staring at Dolls with wide eyes.

“Full offense, but I would prefer you not,” she responds tonelessly.

“Noted,” Wynonna coughs.  Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Doc, just as riveted on Dolls as he watches his own fingers flex.  “So, um, how you feelin’—too soon for Killer Croc jokes?”

To her surprise (and utter delight), he smiles up at her, big and real in a way that makes her breath catch in her throat and her face go hot, and his voice is a little rough when he says, “I feel _good_.”

Vaguely, in a disconnected way like it’s happening far away, she hears Doc whoop but she’s so overcome by _relief_ and something else that hits her in a wave so strong it makes her dizzy.  She holds onto the post at her back like it’s the only thing keeping her upright and her heart hammers so hard it’s gonna beat right through her ribs.  She barely registers that Dolls and Doc are _hugging_ , Jesus Christ, until she hears Dolls hiss, “Still injured—still injured…” and she feels a giddy, crazy laugh in her chest that catches and mangles in her throat—and now there are eyes on her and she coughs uncomfortably and tries to pretend her whole body isn’t on fire.

“Did I ruin the mood?” she asks.

“Little bit,” he responds with a breathless sort of chuckle.  “Good to know things haven’t changed.”

“Calm down,” she says, finally letting go of the wood at her back and stepping forward.  “It’s been, like, two weeks.  It sucked, but it wasn’t _quite_ enough time for me to become less of a spaz.”

Dolls opens his mouth to say something but Rosita pipes, “Do you have a first aid kit?  We’re gonna go get a first aid kit.”

She fairly drags Doc off.

“Oh, I’m so, _so_ sorry for every awful thing I ever said about you,” Wynonna whispers to her back.  “Don’t look so smug,” she frowns into Dolls’ grin, suddenly _so much closer_ , “I just didn’t want an audience for when I kick your _ass_ for being stupid enough to come _here_ —the place your old bosses know I live!  I never wanna hear another lecture about _my_ dumb plans ever again!”

“Do you—do you feel better, now that you’ve gotten that out?” he asks dryly.

“No, actually, I—” she stops suddenly because his eyes have gone lighter by like three shades.  “How do you feel?”

“I told you, I feel fine,” he says, “Hey, Earp, are—”

It happens too quickly, his face splits in pain—then it _literally splits_ , skin cracking and parting and there’s that awful scream-snarl and he backpedals away from her and she’s probably losing her mind because she thinks the places where his skin has broken apart like shattered glass are glowing.  Honest-to-god _frozen in horror_ , she watches helplessly as he drops to his knees, nails digging into his skin—

She thinks the others are back, thinks she hears Doc ask what’s happening, hears Rosita snap that she _said_ it wasn’t ready yet—

Dolls grows quiet, his skin knits, she can see the light fading from his eyes and she’s on her knees holding him upright before she can even really consider it.  She can feel every ragged breath he drags into her hair as his weight settles into her.  He lets her push him back a little, enough to look at his face, waxy now and eyes glazed and nearly unfocused.

“Hey,” she croaks.  “Hey, maybe don’t jinx it this time.”

“You’re an ass,” he groans, letting his head drop.

“Yeah… yeah,” she says.  “Think you can stand?  This is—”  she has to stop a little as she helps him to his feet, grunts as she bears more of his weight than she was ready for,  “This is really more of a kneepad environment.”  She gets him backed up against Doc’s bed which she is 100% volunteering for him because there’s no _way_ she’s carrying his ass into the house that’s just not happening.  “So, not to be a giant pain in the ass, but, um, thinking that wasn’t the intended effect?” she grins sharply at the others _because she’s an ass_.

She’s just about to shame them out the door and back to the creepy underground superlab when Dolls catches her elbow.  “Wynonna—wait, it’s Waverly—you gotta look in her eyes…”

Because _of fucking course_.

**Author's Note:**

> Roughly 3 anons asked me what I thought would happen 2.04 so I wrote it, that's um... pretty much it. If you think I think for an instant that it's not gonna end on this exact cliffhanger...
> 
> Swing by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I constantly beg for attention, talk about my headcanons, and cry because this show is a gift.


End file.
